This distance between…

My bones and your skin, my skin and your bark, my bark and your feathers.

My feathers and your fur, my fur and your scales… we have never been so close…

The distance between my skin and bone is painful, inscribed, marked, flawed,

Freeing, soaring outside of my ‘self’, the eagle takes up the baton…

The swallowtail’s wing scatters these words from West to East, left to right, you to me.

Conversations and connections cutting across continents, cast in concrete…

As the heat intensifies, I am hapless, helpless and limp with fatigue, rare water freshens by bones along with the cracks in the soil.

Longing to bring family together, the season is drawn out, dry and full of anxiety, for this fire is burning and I can feel it from here. 

This distance between… my thoughts and your words, my day and your night, my heat and your rain.

My skin and your touch, my breath and your air… we have never been so close.